


Contact Impossible

by orphan_account



Series: No Vortex Manipulator in Sight [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, also bad scottish accent, so ya'll lay off, this is my first fanfiction, very very bad accent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River Song is stranded in Cornwall with no Vortex Manipulator, 9 guns, 6 knives, and a giant, bloody gash on her side. Enter Carter, an extremely tall surgeon from the town hospital. Carter takes River home and fixes her up. Can River convince Carter to let her stay there while she contacts the Doctor? Does Carter have malicious intent? You don't know, I don't know, the story isn't finished yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

River held in a gasp of pain as she pulled herself behind the dumpster, into the relatively dry area under the overhang of the roof above her. The rough stone of the alleyway cut into her palms, but that was the least of her worries. She lay her head on the wall behind her for only a moment before pulling herself into what could almost be called a sitting position and finally taking a look at the stinging wound she had covered with her right hand. 

As she peeled her hand away, she could see that the gash the Gorganon swords had left in her side was long, beginning at her waist and moving diagonally up towards her rib cage and onto her shoulder, but only deep where it began. She had dodged the sword too late, but had managed to stop herself from being gutted. By the time it reached her shoulder, the cut was barely a scratch. 

She reached for her medipak but it was gone, lost somewhere along the way. Her Vortex Manipulator had been taken and she had no other way of calling for help. Stifling a curse, she pulled off the tattered remains of her white jacket and applied pressure to the worst of her wound. The cold air nipped at her bare arms and the cold stone pressed jaggedly into her back. 

River was stuck. She had no way to contact anyone, no medical assistance on the way, the hospital was a mile away but completely out of the question. She may have no longer had any regenerations, but both of her hearts were still there and a hospital was risky.

Not bothering to muffle her groan as she pulled herself up using the dumpster, she began to move out of the alleyway in hopes of finding someone before she passed out. Instead, she ran straight into the hard chest of someone nearly 2 meters tall. Well, 1.8, but close enough. 

“Ma’am?” asked the oddly feminine voice, “Ma’am, you’re bleeding. Let me got you too the hospital.”

River, by that point, was becoming light headed from the combination of pain, exhaustion, and blood loss, and could only mumble, “Risky, no hospital... It’s too risky.”

The man - or woman, River couldn’t tell - seemed to hear River and nodded. “Alright, I’m a surgeon, so I’m going to take you home. I live a block from here. I’ll see what I can do but I’ll bring you to the hospital if I have to.”

River could only nod, but as the person picked her up, no easy task, she managed to reach her hand around and grab her smallest gun from the holster at the small of her back. She clutched it in her hand and tried her best not to cry out as she was carried carefully if quickly to her savior’s home. 

It went against her every instinct, but she was mentally and physically exhausted and her head settled into the nape of her carrier’s neck. She breathed in lavender and woodsmoke, and odd combination, and felt the brush of a ponytail on her forehead before succumbing to the dark that swam at the edges her vision. 

 

She awoke the next morning on a couch. She blinked blearily a few times before remembering the events of the night before and springing up. Or, at least, trying to. She was brought back to a hunched over sitting position when a sharp pain tore down the right side of her abdomen, right where she had been injured last night. 

A strong Scottish accent came suddenly from behind her. “Och, ye fool. You’ve gone and torn your stitches, no ‘avent you?”

The mysterious figure from the night before. It was a 25 to 30 year old man, no a woman, no, well, one of those, tall, dressed in a flannel shirt that reached to her- his- their knees and loose flannel pants. Their hair was dyed a deep purple and was long enough to reach their waist. They were extremely well built and River understood why this person had carried her so easily. For a second, River could only gape. 

“Who are you?” she demanded, despite the pain in her side. “What happened?”

“Well, I found ye in the alley, brought ye home, and fixed ye up. You can relax, by the way, I’ve gone and left all o’ your guns and weapons on the coffee table righ’ there.” They pointed to the table next to River. Sure enough, River’s entire assortment of weapons was sitting there. And so were her clothes.

It was then that River realized that she was in a massive shirt that reached her knees and had no pants on, at all. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this, but decided it was not the most important thing in the world at that specific moment.

“As for who I am, m’ name’s Carter. I work as a surgeon ‘bout a mile away. Now, before you start wavin’ a gun at mere or asking any more o’ your questions, I need ye to hop up on my kitchen counter so I can fix up the stitches ye just tore.”

River grabbed one of her smaller, non-lethal guns and got up, much more carefully that time. 

“If you try anything, anything at all, I will shoot you without hesitation,” River threatened. 

Carter just shrugged. “I was an army doctor, lass. Threaten me all ye like, I still gotta fix those stitches o’ yours. Now, are ye hoppin’ up there by yourself or do I gotta put you up there like a kid?”

River used a chair as a step and was soon on the counter, bandages off, trying her damned best not to flinch every time Carter stuck the needle into her skin.

“You’re lucky,” Carter mumbled around a spool of string. You could ‘ave torn the deeper stitches, but ye only tore the surface ones. Makes my job easier, too, so good on you. Now hold still, lass, I only got to tie the knot now... done.”

Carter cut the string and sat back triumphantly. “Now, let’s get that wrapped and you can answer a few of my questions.”

Five minutes later, the bandage covered her waist, chest, and left shoulder. 

River stared at Carter and seemed to get back the spark she’d been missing most of the morning. “I can answer your questions? You can answer mine. I have the guns. Plural. Despite my injury, I could floor you in a minute or less. So, question one, full name, occupation and species.”

Carter raised an eyebrow, stared at River, and shrugged. “Alright lass, but in return I’m gonna need a name. Can’t very well go ‘round callin’ you lass all day, can I?”

“River Song, now continue.”

“M’ name’s Carter, like I said. Carter Richardson. I work at the ‘ospital, down the way, as a surgeon. As for species, ‘m not sure what you want. Human, I s’pose, if that’s what you mean.”

“How did you find me last night?” demanded River. Her memories from the night before were quite fuzzy. 

“Ye found me, River,” replied Carter. “Walked yerself right on into my chest as I was walkin’ home. Wouldn’t let me take ye to the ‘ospital, so I improvised.”

“Why did you help me?” River asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. 

“The truth? I dunno,” shrugged Carter. “It was a pretty stupid decision, I can see now, if ye plan on shootin’ me.”

“I don’t,” acquiesced River, and put down her gun. Carter seemed to be telling the truth. Anyways, River needed a place to live while she contacted the Doctor. “Just one last question,” she added. 

Carter looked at River. “Och, I see. Ye want to know if I’m a lass or a lad, don’t ye?”   
River nodded. Carter must have gotten that question a lot if they could see it coming like that. 

“I’m a lass, really, but I’ve been a lad more'n once to more‘n one person. I’m whatever ye want to call me.”

River was used to beings outside of the gender binary. Aliens tended to have more than two genders. Often many more. 

“Now, River, ye gotta tell me your story, or I canne let ye stay here. I gotta know if you’re dangerous and don’ go lyin’ to me. I’ve heard enough stories to know when somethin’s true or not. Don’t give me any o’ that shit about gettin’ mugged, no regular woman has 9 guns and 6 knives when goin’ on a walk,” accused Carter, standing up with her arms crossed and looking down at River from her full height of 1.8 meters. 

RIver studied her options. She could tell the truth, and Carter could kick her out of the house for being crazy. She could lie, and risk being kicked out anyways. With a sigh, she decided to tell the truth. It seemed her best chance at securing a place to live until the Doctor could come get her. As much as she hated to admit it, she was stuck  
.   
“Okay, well, first, you may want to grab a stethoscope. You’ll want to hear my heartbeat.”


	2. Explanations and Expectations

“So, lemme get this straight. Yer a time lady, one of the only remaining two, but you have no regenerations left and so if ye die, yer dead,” began Carter, trying to get it all to make sense. “Ye were fighting off some aliens-”

“Gorganons,” River clarified. 

“I really don’ care what they were called,” continued Carter, waving River’s interjection away. “Some aliens who were in violation of the... Shadow Proclamation and they snuck up on ye, sliced ye with their swords, took yer time travel device, that Vortex Manipulator thing, and left ye, what? Just lying there bleeding?”

“That... just about sums it up. I need a place to stay while I contact the Doctor.”

“The Doctor? That’s it? Doctor of what?” asked Carter sarcastically. If River hadn’t had two hearts, Carter would have kicked her out long ago.

“Of nothing and everything. He’s the other time lord I was talking about. He has a Tardis, a time machine that you get inside of, and at this point, he’s the only one who can get me out of here,” replied River, ignoring Carter’s sharp tone.  
“So.. what? Ye want to live in my guest bedroom while ye try and contact a man who’s thousands of miles or even years away?”

“If you are willing,” said River calmly. “If you want me to leave, I will.”

“No, I’m not going to kick you out.” Carter buried her hands in her head and sighed deeply. River only watched, hoping Carter would let her stay. If she had to leave, she had no money, no place to live, and an even worse chance of contacting the Doctor. 

That said, River hated the idea that the Doctor had to save her. He was wonderful, so, so wonderful, but the chances that River could summon a version of the Doctor who knew her, really knew her, were slim. She also hated being so helpless. The next few moments were about to decide what she did for at least the next few months, if not years, and they were in control of someone River had known for less than a day.

“Fine,” said Carter, finally, breaking the silence. River almost exhaled in relief. “Fine, but there ‘ave to be rules.”

“Of course,” said River demurely. But a pleased smile took over her face and she looked supremely arrogant. Carter wasn’t facing River and therefore couldn’t see her, but if Carter had seen, she may have revoked her agreement instantly.

“First of all, yer my cousin who’s in town. I donna care wha’ sob story you come up with, just make it plausible and make it consistent.” Carter was now on a roll. Lists were orderly and therefore easier. “Secondly, ye cook.”

River looked at Carter, surprised. “I what?”

“Ye cook. I cannae cook for shit, so you’ll ‘ave to unless ye want take out every night. An’ finally, I’ve got work every mornin’. Ye can do whatever ye want while I’m gone but donnae go in my room. I’ll give you a bit ‘o money to spend if ye wanna go inta town. “

River was surprised by the generosity. A bedroom, a stipend, and almost complete freedom, provided she cooked and kept her curiosity at bay. 

“I can agree to that,” said River, nodding. She held out her hand for Carter to shake and they shook firmly. Carter had lithe, strong fingers and a calloused palm. 

Carter glanced at the watch on her wrist and let out a string of curses. “I’m gonna be late. I’ve got ta get ta work in an hour and I ‘ave to clean up. Just, I donnae care, really, just stay ‘ere.”

Carter rushed off to get ready and River sat back in the couch, trying to process the past 24 hours. She had gone from hunting, to being hunted, to passed out on a couch, to having a place to live while she contacted the Doctor. It was all a bit of a rush. 

She had picked up on some alien activity and Torchwood had been busy dealing with the rift. So River went to investigate. She realized now that it had been a trap. It had been over two centuries since she had been lured into a trap like that, and she felt like a complete dunce. It had been a ploy for the Gorganons to get her Vortex Manipulator, and they had succeeded. River had been entirely too careless, having just left from a visit with the Doctor, and they had caught her unaware in the alleyway. 

RIver knew she couldn’t have died if Carter hadn’t come along, but she would have been significantly weaker and taken weeks more to recover. 

Then Carter emerged from her bedroom, wearing business slacks and a button up shirt. Her purple hair was slicked back into a low ponytail, the kind men tended to wear, and she had glasses on. River thought something was just a little bit off about Carter, but couldn’t quite pin it down. Shrugging it off, River stood and walked over to Carter. 

“You’re off then?” she asked.

“I’ve got work. Jus’, stay in the town an’ don’ forget to cook dinner,” Carter said, slinging a bag over her shoulder. Just as she was about to leave the house, she stopped. 

“Och, I almos’ forgot,” she groaned. Carter turned and pulled a wallet from her pocket. She opened it and pulled out 5 twenty pound notes, casually. River raised an eyebrow. A hundred pounds was not something one usually had in their wallet, but River supposed that Carter was suitably unusual. 

River took the money Carter handed to her and tucked it in the breast pocket of the long shirt she was wearing. It was then that she realized two things. Carter was at least a third of a meter taller than River, and River was still not wearing pants. She resisted the urge to blush as Carter said goodbye, turned again, and left the house, shutting the door quietly behind her. River took a few steps backwards and fell onto the couch, landing with a heavy thump. 

She sat there for a while, trying to pinpoint what she had noticed about Carter before she had left, but RIver could come up with nothing. Shrugging, she finally took in her surroundings. The apartment she was sitting in was not horribly small, nor was it overly large. It was meant for 2 people, no more. There was no dining room, just a stainless steel kitchen counter with stools lined up on one side and a kitchen on the other, set back into a recess. The cupboards were all grey. The sitting room, where River was now, had a small fireplace with a flat screen over it and a couch. 

From what River could see, the wall that blocked in the kitchen was the side of a bathroom, which led to a Master Bedroom and a smaller guest bedroom. Finally, there was what River assumed was an office, doors closed firmly. The walls were all a pleasant, if boring, beige. Notebooks littered every available surface, but they were the only clutter. Excepting the empty coffee mug on the counter, everything else was neat and put away. River grabbed one of the notebooks on the small side table near the couch, she pulled the pen off of the cover and flipped to a blank page. She had to start planning the device she would use to contact the Doctor. She had already considered contacting Torchwood, but knew that they would be busy with the rift for the next 4 years and travel was impossible unless she wanted to buy a car and drive. Guns and knives weren’t allowed on trains and she was unwilling to give them up. 

Two hours later she had a plan and knew what she did and didn’t need to complete her device. It was time to go to the shops. 

She, once again, took stock of her attire. She was utterly underdressed. Her shirt, for obvious reasons, was not suitable. Her pants, she surmised, holding them up, were relatively unstained and the leather had no holes in it. River sighed when she realized she would need to borrow a shirt from Carter. Having been specifically told to stay out of Carter’s bedroom, River was torn. But Carter would never know, and so River moved to the bedroom and opened the door quietly. She didn’t know what she was being quiet. She just was. 

River tried her best to ignore the neatly made bed and the dresser, moving instead towards the closet. She flung it open and was confronted with 5 pairs of slacks, over twenty different button up shirts, 12 ties, and 7 belts. She counted. Off to the side, in that sort of recess that most closets have, 4 flowy dress shirts and 3 dresses hung, undisturbed. They hadn’t been worn much. 

River almost decided against digging through the dresser, which would most likely have unmentionables and such along with other clothing, but knew she needed something other than what was hanging in front of her. 

She walked over, opened the second drawer, assuming the, well, more personal articles, would lay at the top. Inside were carefully folded t-shirts and three plaid, long sleeved button-up shirts that looked suitable. They were similar to the one she was currently wearing, but didn’t have the small problem of a bloodstain from when she had pulled her stitches. Pulling one out, a red one, she threw it over her arm and marched from the room, once again trying her very best not to look at Carter’s things. This was her private space, not River’s.

River remembered to grab a belt on the way out, a thinner one, and shut the door firmly behind her. The warm light from the window confronted her and she realized that the curtains over the windows were TARDIS blue. Of all the things...

Smiling just a little, River lay her new acquisitions on the couch and pulled on her leather pants. They slipped on comfortably and she adjusted them accordingly. She slipped on the plaid shirt next, finding that the bandages around her chest served as bra enough. As she buttoned up the shirt, she realized it was a men’s cut, which struck River as odd, because when she had seen Carter that morning, her host had had more than her share of bust.  
She realized, then, what had seemed odd about Carter. She had had a flat chest that morning before leaving, and had been clearly dressed in men’s clothing. River wanted to ask about that but remembered that Carter had been particularly ambivalent about her gender. It seemed that Carter identified or at least presented as a man at work. 

River thought about this but decided that she would not push. Grabbing the belt, she cinched it around her waist, creating a sort of dress about of the shirt she wore, and shoved her feet into her boots, lacing them as tightly as she could. She switched the 100 pounds into her new breast pocket and almost left before realizing she should have a house key. Once she found a spare one, she was on her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. New chapter. If anyone is still confused, Carter is gender-fluid. She is a demi-girl, identifying as agendered at work and she gets a little kick when people call her sir. She likes it. Please excuse the complete crap of a Scottish accent, I've never written one before, and thank you for reading!


End file.
